


Shut Up, Kiss Me, Hold Me Tight

by thelma_throwaway



Category: Firefly, Serenity (2005)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Early Rayne, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Pre-Relationship, Smut, Trope Subversion/Inversion, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:40:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23344117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelma_throwaway/pseuds/thelma_throwaway
Summary: Five Rayne tropes turned upside-down--- and one that remains perfectly intact.
Relationships: Jayne Cobb/River Tam
Comments: 6
Kudos: 78





	1. White Cotton Panties

**Author's Note:**

> Adult situations, strong language, etc.
> 
> Title from a song by the same name by Angel Olsen.

In a cruel twist of stupidity, Jayne calls on a bad hand of tall card and earns himself the ship’s most unsavory chore. 

It’s been weeks since they’ve had the water to spare for it and several cheesy hampers of laundry have amassed in the washroom.

For almost two years he’d begged off, or rather been banned from doing the wash. A certain incident never spoken of, Inarra having lost her composure after finding Jayne with her silk drawers on his head. She’d since decided to send her affects out when the occasion presented.

He stuffs all that he can into the gaping, ancient washer and then sticks around to kick the machine periodically to encourage it to move faster. When the dry cycle completes he empties it onto the floor and then stares. He could just leave it like this-- let them pick through for themselves. Might be he’d done such a bad job they’d never let him do it again.

“What are you doing.” River leans in the doorway, hair wet and a too-long cotton dress knotted at her knee to keep it from tangling with her boots.

  
“What’s it look like, genius?”

“Dumping all the clean laundry onto the filthy floor…”

“Well there’s a reason I ain’t done the wash in a while.” He fishes into the machine for stray clothes. Grinning he frees a pair of white cotton panties from the bottom of the tub. He tosses them at River. “Here-- these are yours.”

She examines them and slings them back at him. “Not mine.”

“No? I pegged you for a granny panty type of gal.” He holds the pair taut, hooked between his forefingers. 

“You spend a lot of time thinking about me in my underwear?” River picks her way around the giant pile of laundry, rummaging here and there.

Jayne snorts. “‘’Bout as much as I spend thinking of you out of it. Not much.”

River smiles and looks up at him from under long black lashes. Her dress falls away from her chest and when he meets her grin with his, he can see the swell and peak of her small breasts, the flat of her stomach receding in shadow to the juncture of her thighs. She stands and unfolds a pair of dark green lace shorts, the netted print swirled masterfully to cover only the most essential lines when worn.

Never moving her eyes from his, she slips them over her ankles and up under her dress, smoothing the fabric over her hips once the maneuver is complete. She quirks a brow and strides haughtily from the washroom without another word.

  
“Damn,” he mutters once she’s gone. He digs a bit until he finds an identical pair, slips them into his pocket and slinks away to his bunk before a second thought can shame him out of it. 


	2. Secret Sleeping Arrangement

Mal shakes his head, trying to shake loose what must be a mirage. Space madness has finally taken hold, he considers, because there’s no other explanation for the scene before him

Jayne’s laid up on the couch in the crew lounge, one hand holding aloft a comic book, the other settled on the small form curled like a kitten on his chest.

“Jayne, you mind---”

“ _ Shhh! _ ” He shoots the captain a look like he is indeed crazy, and half-whispers, “You out your mind? She jus’ fell asleep.”

“Um.” Mal rattles his head again. Surely he does not see what he sees. His reliably unreliable merc, firstly reading---in a pair of wire rimmed glasses no less-- and secondly cuddled up to the strange little bird who’s been his mortal enemy for nigh on two years now. 

River’s breathing is even but her eyes move rapidly under their lids, her mouth forming and unforming silent words, snarls, sobs. She stirs a little and Jayne moves his hand to cover her head under his palm. She melts against him in her sleep, twisting a handful of Jayne’s t-shirt in her fist. 

Jayne gestures with his head for Mal to beat it and he does, with much relief. He retreats to his bunk, splashes some water on his face, then takes the long way down to the engine room. Simon sits with Kaylee’s feet, the rest of her disappeared under the engine, passing her the wrong tool over and over.

“Captain Reynolds,” Simon says, finally noticing him after a beat too long. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Just feeling a mite queasy,” Mal manages to say, quite truthfully. He’d space Jayne himself if occasion arose but he’s inclined to let his beloved little ‘tross do anything that will bring her peace and a morsel of happiness. He doubts Simon will be so understanding. Kaylee slides out from under the engine, concern written on her face. 

“You want me to fix ya some tea, cap’n?” Kaylee wipes her hands on a rag and levers herself up on Simon’s knee. 

“No! No. In fact I think it’s best if we all keep out the mess for the time being.”

“Is there something wrong?” Simon rises now too, head swivelling searchingly though he knows his sister isn’t in the engine room. 

“Not at all,” he promises. “Just--uhh-- Jayne’s in there, workin’ on a project. You know how he gets.”

“As long as he isn’t making too much noise.” Simon settles down again, his fine trousers on a filthy milkcrate. “I sent River to get some rest, she hasn’t slept in days.”

Mal stammers some excuse and takes his leave. Simon watches him go, shaking his head, and hands Kaylee the wrong tool again. “Are we sure there isn’t a gas leak?”


	3. Virgin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut ahead-- 18+ please.

“So.” She’s kneeling between his splayed knees on the bench, hands balanced like a gymanists’s feet on a beam in a way that pushes her pale breasts up and nearly out of her dress. “Are you coming?”

Jayne smirks but keeps on pumping the bar up and over his head. She’s been prowling like a cat in heat for days now but poor thing probably can’t hear the innuendo in her own words. “Coming where?”

“My bunk.” She rolls her eyes and advances a little. “And of course I hear them.”

He shakes his head and keeps counting reps.

“You can’t ignore me forever, Jayne.” There’s no sultriness to her voice, it’s the same brittle, crazy tone as always.

“Can’t I?” He feels her hand cup him, one small warm palm over his shaft, thumb stroking against his balls. He shakes his head again and tries to focus.  _ One hundred and nine, one hundred and ten, one hundred and gorram that feels good _ .

Her other hand shoots up to still the bars movement and he recalls another time her hand had found its way to his nethers.

“Wasn’t in my right mind,” she says by way of apology.

“And now ya are?” A year ago he would have jumped up and run away. But she’s like a puppy, the chase is just another game. He’s gotten the most peace from her by just giving her what she wants and nothing more. A push on the swing Kaylee’s hung from the catwalk, his bread roll at dinner, one secretive, chaste smooch on her 18th birthday. 

“I’ll make you forget all about it,” she promises letting go of the bar and placing a hand next to his head on the bench. She pulls at his earlobe, sending a shiver through him, the crescent of her nail sharp against the sensitive skin. “By the time I’m done with you.” 

He sits up suddenly, sending her toppling backwards but he catches her with two broad hands against her rib cage and holds her up. He looks her over--- the blue veins showing just beneath the pale skin of her breasts, her mouth slightly parted, her eyes black with desire.

“I’m a man, girly. A big one,  _ dong ma _ ? Got big wants, ain’t no jellybrained virgin gonna be able to please me. I don’t do no teaching and I don’t need you scraping your teeth on me and crying in my bunk. You can talk dirty all you want but you ain’t ready for what you’re askin’.”

“Virgin?” she smirks, moving one of his hands up over her chest. She slides her thighs around him so she’s straddling his lap and guides his other hand under the hem of her dress. “Barbaric, the idea that your father owns your fragile membrane until he can sell it for market value. An outdated patriarchal construct designed by men to keep women socially and economically beholden to their flaccid cocks. Used to shame and punish women. Mother Mary or Mary Magdalene but never just Mary for Mary’s own sake.”

She rolls her hips against his hand and against his better judgement, he feels his fingers push in without any resistance. She bares her teeth and sighs. “The hymen is easily broken-- horseback riding, dance, martial arts, athletics. I pursued all of them before I ever left for the academy. And even if I hadn’t, I’m no ‘virgin’.”

He wonders vaguely if it could have been Mal but chases the thought away before she can hear it. She seems pretty distracted, working herself against his fingers. A pretty pink flush creeps over her face.

“No, not him.” She gasps and growls, moving a hand to his jaw to hold his gaze firmly to her. “Thought about it but---  _ mmmmm _ \--- he’d be too hesitant, too guilty. Inarra’s back and she won’t share anyway.”

“Then who.” He thumbs her clit and tries to recall when she would have had the opportunity. He hasn’t exactly been monitoring her movements, anytime she might have found a fella to slip off with he’d been preoccupied himself with finding a good lay.

“Don’t remember their names.” She laughs and picks up the pace, rubbing at his cock straining through his pants but not enough to get him where she’s going. She must just like the feel of it and that’s fine with him. “They were serviceable.”

“So why you inviting me to your bunk then,  _ baobei _ ? If you’re such a man-eater.”

“It's been weeks,” she moans. “Getting lonely. Thought it would be---  _ uhhhhhh---  _ mutually beneficial.”

The words drop away and what's left are her devastating little mewls and gasps until suddenly she shudders around his fingers, nearly crushing his knuckles as she squeezes out the last waves of pleasure. After a moment she laughs and lifts herself up and off, removing his hand from her breast and her palm from his cock. With a mischievous grin she leans down, sucks clean the two fingers still held erect in his lap and dances away, leaving him stunned and exceptionally horny. 

“Took too long to decide,” she giggles, scampering up the catwalk. “Too bad, maybe next time, jellybrain.”


	4. Jealousy

“Oh!” Kaylee’s mouth forms into a perfect oval, brows shooting up so fast they nearly jump off her forehead. “Hey--uhhh, Jayne look over here.”

He ignores her directions, instead turning to follow her flittering eye line across the room. River is perched at the bar and pressed against her is some  _ hundan _ in a vest. He’s got a long-nosed pistol strapped to his hip and a hand on the small of River’s back. 

“Now Jayne, don’t get tetchy,” she admonishes, her face drawn into what she probably imagines is a very stern look. “Riv’s a grown woman and she can do as she pleases.”

“I know. Told’er the same thing” Jayne drains his beer, signals to the barkeep for another. The Vest’s hand has migrated to the nape of River’s neck but Jayne’s eyes hardly flicker.

“So y’all broke it off?” Kaylee lets out a disappointed sigh and cradles her head on one hand. She had been quite pleased to be the first to notice the crackling energy forming between the two, even more pleased with the friendly mood it had put Jayne in and the sweetness it had returned to River. She had confided in Kaylee that no promises had been made but that didn’t stop the mechanic from spinning a number of fantasies regarding marriage and many little Cobblets to play with Tamlings she was going to have--- one day. 

Now the whole crew was like to get caught in the crossfire. 

“Nope.” A waitress sways over, replaces the beer bottle and takes the proffered tip and Jayne’s wink with a giggle. “Thanks, sugar.”

“Then…. why…” She tosses her hands in the air. “I don’t understand you at  _ all _ , Jayne Cobb. You’re not gonna go over there and bash that bozo’s head in for touching your gal? If Simon’d---”

Jayne snorts. “Please. It’d go against his hippot’mus oath.”

“I just don’t understand it.” If you told her Jayne Cobb sang opera and dabbled in needlepoint she couldn’t have been more surprised. She’s seen him getting more territorial over a slice of bread than he is of River right now. “Don’t you want her?”

Kaylee eyes the pair at the bar, noting the way River leans against the bar uncommittedly, though her eyelids are held low and seductive and her mouth twists into wry smile as the Vest whispers in her ear. She wonders what he’s saying, wonders what River  _ hears _ . Kaylee turns her head as he leans in for a kiss

“Like I said, she can do as she pleases,” he continues, ignoring her soft  _ meep! _ of surprise, though he doesn’t turn to follow her eyes. “ Don’t mean she always get pleased.”

All at once there’s the scuffling sound of a commotion at the bar. Kaylee grips the table, Jayne’s hand drifts idly to the knife at his side but he keeps drinking his beer. A shout, a scrape, and the sound of a door slamming. 

“Hi.” River is suddenly beside them, a light flush visible on her cheeks, chest heaving ever so slightly. 

“What happened to your friend?” Jayne slides out the seat opposite him with his foot and she takes it. If there’s a moment of recognition, Kaylee doesn’t catch it. Without meaning to, they’ve written their own little language spoken only in the curve of eyebrows and the barest movements of the head. 

“He had to go.”

River holds up a hand of apology to the barkeep and gestures for another round for the table. Again the waitress sashays over, an extra little roll in her hips as she grazes past Jayne. Her smile collapses when her eyes meet Rivers and she scurries away. Kaylee considers that her friend might not be as magnanimous as Jayne is when it comes to sharing. 

“Shame.” Jayne tries to suppress a grin but fails.River shrugs and produces the long-nosed pistol from somewhere under her jacket.

“Left something to remember him by.” She slides it across the table to Jayne, who growls in delight. 

Kaylee looks from one to the other and back again. Aside from Simon, these two might be her best friends in the whole ‘verse. And she cannot for the life of her figure them out. 


	5. Pet Names

Her face screws up, nose wrinkled and brow furrowed. Jayne stops midpump, leans panting against her.

“Guess ya don’t like that one.”

“I don’t know. What if I called you Jayne-man?” She slides her palms around his throat and gives an encouraging squeeze. “Don’t stop.”

“Guess that’d be annoying.” He resumes his rhythm but slower than before. “What can I call ya?”

“Oooooo!” He lands a well aimed thrust and she shakes around him. “Anything you want.”

“‘Cept that? ‘River-girl’?”

“Mmmm I liked what you called me last time.”

He grins at the memory, rolls his hips to make her moan. “That’s cuz you followed directions. Today you’re right stubborn. Turn over.”

Obediently she slides off of him and turns onto all fours. She watches his movement in the shined barrels of his collection, 10 hungry stares. He growls and lands an open palm on the swell of her ass. “What about my sexy little freak, how about that?”

__ “Yes.” _ Smack. _

_ “ _ Yes what?” _ Smack.  _

“Sir!”  _ Smack.  _

Jayne hisses and presses into her again, using the long twist of her hair as a leash to pull her back against him. “That’s what you got to call me when you come crawling to my bunk beggin’ for cock.”

“I think you may have a complex,” she smirks, enjoying the sting as he lands another slap on her ass. “Sir.”

“Ha-ha,” he growls against her shoulder. “You know I’m the only one that can boss ya around on your hands an’ knees, crazy.”

Her retort dies a little death on her lips as she shudders under him, knowing it's true. Every time she finds herself knocking oh-so-softly at his hatch he seems to know exactly what to say.  _ Get down here, take it off, real slow _ . She likes to follow his orders. They’re almost always mutually beneficial.  _ Just like that, hands behind your back, don’t stop _ .

When they’re done they collapse together into a boneless pile on his bed. He kneads along her back and thighs with one hand, using the other to tie off and toss away the condom in one impressive motion. 

“If you don’t like a name just tell me,” he mumbles into her hair. “If it bothers ya when I call ya crazy…”

She silences him with a well placed palm. “It doesn’t.”


	6. (+1) Hairbrushing

The mule returns in a flurry of motion and shouting and blood. Jayne carries the captain to the infirmary and doubles back for Zoe, who refuses the help until she staggers to her knees halfway up the stairs. She grits her teeth and leans only a little on his shoulder. One day he’ll name a gun Zoe.

River stands outside the one of the bay windows, her soot covered hands working like little, fearful birds against each other. Kaylee holds Innara and whispers comfort. “Can’t get so scared everytime Cap’n gets gutshot. You’ll worry the hair off your head.”

From the gurney, palm pressed hard against the seeping wound on her thigh, Zoe gestures impatiently for River to get them in the air and the pilot turns on her heel, hands still flittering away. The singed ends of her once long hair swaying behind her.

Once they're safely in the black, River stays crouched in the pilot’s seat with her knees drawn to her chest. Sometimes just being herself is like playing Russian roulette and today she’d been an empty chamber in the very worst way. She’d been no help at all, except when she’d dragged Mal from the burning saloon. And driven the mule back at top speed. And tossed a grenade into the skimmer pursuing them. 

She feels a hand on the crown of her head and relaxes her jaw though she hadn’t known she’d been clenching.

“Lost a few strands here, _baobei_ .” The hand slides over her forehead, rubs across her cheek, and settles lightly on her collarbone.

“Protein filament-- developing at the rate one sixteenth of an inch a day, one half inch a month, an average of six inches every solar cycle.” She looks up at Jayne. He's already showered and changed, soap smell replacing the metallic tang of blood. “It’ll grow back.”

“That’s a lot of words.” He runs his fingers through her hair, rolling the burnt tips that fall against her shoulder between his thumb and forefinger. She doesn’t look half bad with it short, he thinks, maybe just a mite saner. “Ta try and convince me you don’t mind.”

The tears well up in her eyes unbidden. It was silly to get emotional over some extra-long shafts of keratin. It would be like crying every time she cut her nails or some skin flaked off her elbows. 

But her hair is something that makes her feel like  _ her _ . She has always had wild, long locks that refused to be tied back or braided or held in place with jade combs. It had driven her mother wild, been the cause of many fights with her governesses. She wonders still why that hadn’t simply shaved it off at the academy-- why had they taken so much but left her hair? 

“Let me fix it for ya,” Jayne purrs. “Make it grow back nice.”

She shrugs noncommittally but lets him lead her to the galley and sit her at the table. They won’t be interrupted. Everyone is still wringing their hands in the medbay.

Her muscles uncoil at the first stroke of the boar's hair brush against her scalp, the one she keeps in his bunk. He must have brought it with him already, and the pair of silver sheers laid neatly on the table on a folded towel. It occurs to her that he’d set it all up before collecting her from the bridge. 

He brushes her singed hair longer than needs be, waiting until her breath is even and her shoulders are soft. He lays down the brush and massages the painfully tense triangle of muscles at the nape of her neck until her chin falls forward and a little smile returns to her mouth.

“Why are you so nice to me, Jayne?”

“Nice? I ain’t nice.” He lays the towel over her shoulders and back.

“Yes you are.” She rolls her eyes, knows she won’t get the answer she’s looking for. To get him to say it the first time had been like pulling teeth, perhaps it was unfair of her to keep asking him to admit it outloud. It danced across his mind plenty these days, especially loud when she pulled maneuvers like removing the pin from a grenade with her teeth, one hand on the wheel dodging mesas on some  _ go se _ little moon.

“Well don’t tell no one, ay?” He picks up the silver sheers. “Gonna start snippin’, don’t freak out.” 

Her eyes drift shut listening to the soft metallic click of the scissors, the air cool on her newly naked neck. Too soon he’s done and she frowns against the loss of his touch, but he picks up the brush again and runs the bristles across her scalp and down the short strands. A pleasant tingle runs down her spine, like cold mint tea being poured over her head.

_Autonomous sensory meridian response_ , she thinks. She's tried to explain it several times to Jayne but he generally loses the thread once she starts  demonstrating with her nails on his scalp. 

“Let me look at ya.” He turns her in her seat and grins. He’s no artiste but it looks good, falling just under her chin in soft waves. She looks grown and somehow even more clever. It gets his mind spinning some brand new fantasies and she looks up at him with a roll of her eyes. 

“Really.” She runs her hand through her hair, frowning at the short journey of her fingers. “You’re thinking about role playing? At a time like this.”

He brushes a stray snip of hair from her cheek. “I dunno, professor, you got an extra credit project for me? I’d do ‘bout anything to get an A.”

“ _ Any _ thing?” She rises to her knees on the stool and wraps her arms around his neck, almost eye level with her…. boyfriend? lover? partner? No word seems to quite fit, all of them are too much but somehow not enough to define what has formed between them. Something makes her go solemn, and she presses a serious, insistent kiss to his mouth. “Thank you. For my haircut.”

Though what she means is,  _ I love you _ .

“Well, not to toot my own horn, but you look sexy as hell.” And he means the same.

He gives her a noisy smooch on the cheek and lifts her down from the stool, sending her off to fix dinner with a firmer-than-necessary pat on the bottom. By the time they’re joined by the rest of their bandaged and bedraggled crew, all evidence of Jayne’s salon has been swept away. 

“ _ Meimei _ , your hair---” Simon starts, hand to his heart. 

“Is just adorable.” Finishes Kaylee, elbowing him hard in the ribs. She and Inarra take turns cooing over the wavy bob, tucking stray locks behind her ears and petting her head. Zoe hobbles back to her bunk and comes back with a silver clip.

“You done good today, River,” she reassures her, sliding the clip to pull back her bangs. “Even if you don’t feel it’s so.” 

“Zoe’s right as usual. Brought us back home alive and only missin’ a few pieces. Sorry it had to be your crownin’ glory that got left behind.” Malcolm looks somewhat pained, though it's likely the open wound on his stomach. “ Did that barbering yourself, little ‘tross?”

“Jayne did it for me.” 

All conversation stops and all eyes turn to the bashful merc at the end of the table.

Mal gives a single surprised laugh and shakes his head. “You takin’ customers, Cobb? Think I’d like to try me a mohawk one of these days.”

“Naw,” Jayne sighs at last and holds out his hand. River floats to him, folding his broad arm around her waist and fixing the assembled crew with a determined look. Simon’s mouth works like he’s a fish on a line. “I’m happy with just the one.” 

**Author's Note:**

> author's note: 
> 
> Somehow early this year I fell back down into fanfiction writing and I fell DEEP. In my younger days I never wrote any Rayne, or anything for Firefly even, but for some reason this couple appeals very much to my adult self. OK I probably know the reasons but that's between me and my honey ;) 
> 
> I'm sure someone with a much longer fandom-memory might be able to tell me exactly where and Jayne-man and River-girl came from, and who decided that River wears exclusively white cotton panties. And this piece is not to poo-poo all those fics that do use these well-loved tropes--its pretty hard to write these characters without falling into them! Which is why I wanted to challenge myself, to imagine River and Jayne a little differently. So I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Foreverly yours,  
> Thelma Throwaway


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